


After the Requiem

by bravevesperian



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, estimeric, hints of power bottom estinien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravevesperian/pseuds/bravevesperian
Summary: Estinien tries to disappear into the shadows before Aymeric can catch up to him, but Lucia stalls him just long enough.





	After the Requiem

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [安魂曲后](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608226) by [1070921032](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1070921032/pseuds/1070921032)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [安魂曲后](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608313) by [1070921032](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1070921032/pseuds/1070921032)



> Briefly references the Rhalgr's Reach drabble from my Wyrmblooded collection, but it's not required reading. Can be found here https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619474

The fires of war burned ever higher and Ishgard's natural defenses were the only thing that guaranteed the promise of her military might at the forefront of the struggle. With the Dragonsong War finally laid to rest, its scars getting buried deeper in the snow by the day-- Lord Aymeric of the House of Lords-- and Lord Commander of the Knights Most Heavenly-- could continue doing what his heart commanded of him.   
Aymeric De Borel was passionately well beloved just as much as those who hated him did so bitterly. His Knights Most Heavenly, now more commonly commanded by his second-in-command, Lucia, would gladly go to war for him: even if that war was on foreign soil. The people understood the threat. In this case, an injury to the Ala Mhigans was an injury to them all. To lose their footing there opened all of Aldenard to the vicious tide of Garlean oppression. Even the Holy See would not be able to withstand them if it came to a direct assault. The Ascian threat on the other hand, was a bit above the station of the average man to comprehend.   
Lord Aymeric, however, knew it all too well--and intimately so.   
He had rushed through the tangle of twisted metal and ceruleum fumes on that fateful day to make it to the side of their friend. Lord Hien of Doma and his retainer along with Commander Lyse Hext of Ala Mhigo were already incapacitated when his men broke through. There was nothing he could do to stop the blow about to be dealt to Hydaelyn's champion, no matter how fast he ran or how desperately his heart pumped blood to get him there.   
That was when a shining spike fell from the air like a Primal's dart, the impact throwing Elidibus in his macabre imitation of Zenos and the warrior of light apart from each other. Aymeric had skidded to a stop, dumbfounded-- his eyes focused on the lance that stood from where it had pierced the ground. A moment later, in a flash of dark armor crowned in pure white, a familiar figure touched down. There was no chance for Elidibus to recover before he had scooped their fallen hero up in one arm, grabbed his lance-- and leapt from the ground with the grace of one weightless; as Dragoons were wont to do.   
Estinien. When had been the last time that he had laid eyes upon the man? Aymeric knew he must focus on what was at hand, but that shining moment was all that his mind's eye could see.   
None of them had expected Elidibus' retreat. He must have been badly wounded indeed to flee at the moment when he could have wrested victory and all light of hope from the hands of his enemies. Aymeric least of all, who had been there at the moment of truth. All had seemed lost for that moment, until Estinien had appeared-- and saved them both. What more could Aymeric have done but fought until he was exhausted, left with only the choice of shielding their champion's body with his own?

With the adrenaline of battle still pumping through his body, Aymeric raced back to their Chirugeons and the Ishgardian incampment. He feared that if he didn't hurry, he would be too late.  
When he arrived, he arrived to the buzz of activity that always came with the desperation at the edge of a battlefield. To his surprise, he also found Estinien-- though it was clear that he was arguing with Lucia. The Warrior of Light had been deposited safely with the healers. Now Lucia had the Dragoon by the wrist-- a daring feat, if Aymeric had ever seen one--as he admonished her and demanded to be released.   
The Lord Commander all but stumbled forward, reaching out-- though he stopped himself just short of making a grab for the man himself. Instead, he dropped his hands as he closed the gap, managing only to breathe the words: "My friend," before he stopped short.   
Estinien turned on his heel, an owlish look akin to pure terror on his angular features. It was clear that he had meant to do his work and then vanish immediately: most certainly before Aymeric could find him. Lucia seemed to have been rather keen on his plan, if the way she had locked an iron grip on his slender wrist said anything. She met Aymeric's gaze, something knowing and gentle in it before she finally let go of the spluttering Dragoon and stepped back to salute her commanding officer.   
"Our defensive line remains in dire need of another pair of hands. My toil here now complete, and our dearest ally in good hands--I shall take my leave, Ser Aymeric," She said firmly.   
Aymeric didn't stop her or question her. Their kind of shared understanding needed few words. Lucia had fought with Estinien to stall him, and wholly for her lord's own benefit. He would thank her later: there was no greater gift that anyone could have given him, and it was likely she knew it.   
All the same, Aymeric's joy quickly diffused as he was overcome with a gripping fear of his own. He did not want to force Estinien to speak to him. To do anything. Estinien had been held in thrall most of his life: to his own lust for revenge and then to the rancor and rage of an eternal grudge-- and to the grim legacy of Nidhogg's eyes. Aymeric took half a step back as he realized this, and knew that he would never let himself be another force holding Estinien captive. He wondered if that was why he looked at him the way that he did now, like prey spotted by the hunter.   
"My friend..." He found himself repeating.   
"My lord," Estinien answered, and there was something mournful in his expression.   
He had managed to stay on the fringes like a shadow to act as a helping hand when needed. He did his work unseen, and wanted to remain that way for he knew that if he looked upon Aymeric or the Gates of Judgment again that he may never be free of their magnetic pull.   
"Forgive me, Lucia only wants...she wants the best for us both, truly," The Lord Commander began.   
"She is as stubborn as ever, and hard as frozen steel," Estinien answered though it was not without fondness.   
"I wished to see you. I flew with all haste in hopes of catching you before you managed to slip into the shadows once more," Aymeric knew that for once in his life, all of his well-spoken words could not avail him. He did not cringe away from how vulnerable he sounded, but rather opened himself to any and all of Estinien's ire if there was any to be had.   
Estinien's expression softened, and all was silent save for the clamor around them in the tents as the hot wind whipped the man's snow white hair about his face. Aymeric thought he might weep for how much he had missed his presence, for how much more color there was in his face: For how much healthier he seemed. It was hard for Aymeric not to take it personally, not to think that he was the poison here, somehow.   
"I wished to see you, as well. More than you could know," Estinien answered, his voice suddenly rough and hoarse.   
"Then why didn't you? You could come to me. You could come in secret, I'd never tell a soul if you didn't wish it--I would never cast any burden upon you again. Would that I could stop you from doing the selfsame unto yourself." The words poured out of him and he resisted the urge to close the few fulms between them.   
"Aymeric..." Estinien's pain was palpable, and again Aymeric feared that he was making it worse just by speaking his mind. "Fury spare me from the warmth of your beating heart. I cannot bear it,"   
Aymeric winced visibly, his gaze finally ripped away from the sight of the man. He felt the hot prickle of rejection on the back of his neck, and had in some sense expected it-- though not for it to smart quite as much as it did.   
"Forgive me, my friend. Forgive me for this and for all--" He did not get the chance to finish the sentence as there was a clatter of Estinien's armor against his own, and the thick hush of the leather that covered the palms of the Dragoon's hands against his cheeks.   
Aymeric's eyes shot open from the heavily lidded state they had affected only moments before to find Estinien less than the space of a breath from him. Before he could think anything else at all, his mouth was against his-- hungry and nearly feral in the way he kissed him. Could it be a kiss, he wondered, when it seemed more like Estinien was intent on devouring him than anything? Could a kiss be nothing but tongue and teeth and desperation?   
"I don't understand--" Aymeric found himself breathing haplessly against Estinien's lips.   
"I am the one who is sorry. I am the one who is overcome. I-- I am weak, Aymeric. So much weaker than you seem able to charge me with being. You are too kind-hearted to witness this bitter truth," Estinien answered, still cradling the Lord Commander's face in his armored palms.   
"Estinien please-- _Estinien_ I beg you. I... no, _we_ set out to save Ishgard. I longed to save it for the both of us, not for me alone. I longed to save _you_ ,"   
"Aymeric I am saved. I am, for the first moment in time that I have known, finally and most truly free. You have given me my freedom, a greater gift there never was-- and now you must see that I fear losing it again. This is what I mean. I am weak to my heart's desires, as ever I have been. When it tugs me hither and fro, I must answer. Should I look upon the Gates of Judgment, should I stand in your presence, my dearest of companions-- I may lose my freedom again."   
Aymeric took a breath to steady himself, the Dragoon's words settling into his mind slowly. They made sense though, and he understood, at the very least, why Estinien felt that he must never stop running.   
"I will not hold you. I swear it upon my Naegling, Upon my name--at the feet of the Fury herself."   
"This I do not doubt. You are ever a man of your word, ever a man of poise. I... however, am not. This is my weakness in need of redress, not yours."   
It felt for a moment as if they were at an impasse. Aymeric feared that Estinien might well and truly try to flee at any moment. The maelstrom around them seemed far away, and he hadn't even stopped to wonder if some poor wayward infantryman had just witnessed their Commander sloppily kissing his missing friend. Aymeric watched as Estinien drew in a deep breath.   
"I would... ask only one thing more of you. Another kiss that I may keep it in my heart on the long and darkened path." Aymeric stared at him dumbly for a moment as he moved closer--   
\--And raised up his hand to shove him back.   
Estinien looked wounded as the Lord Commander stepped back from him and shook his head, suddenly indignant.   
"A farewell kiss, like in the great tales? Then come and claim it."   
Aymeric turned on his heel, leaving Estinien dumbstruck as he bee-lined for his private tent. His heart hammered, a fresh wave of adrenaline pushing him forward. He thought that if he looked behind him to check, then surely Estinien would be gone. He could run then and there and never look back--or turn to salt or ash on the wind like in the old tragedies.   
He could not mask his relief as he entered the muffled quiet of his own space to hear the clatter of the taller man's armor behind him, drawn as a moth to the flame. Aymeric shook out his cloak to the soft trill of his own scale-mail and stood to face Estinien with his chin raised and jaw set.   
"One kiss, you say," Aymeric repeated with no lack of venom.   
"If you do not wish it, then say so and let my heart be free of this," Estinien answered harshly.   
"Nay. I shall not. In all other ways I give you your freedom with a glad heart. But here, where matters of the heart are concerned I must needs refuse. Pray do not misunderstand me-- I am a generous man with a love for altruism-- but your heart is _mine_ , Estinien Wyrmblood, and I shall not easily relinquish my claim upon it."  
Again, Estinien stood dumbfounded, at a loss in the dim surroundings of Aymeric's tiny haven in the surge of battle-weary men and women outside. He was not to be disturbed, though he was clearly busy disturbing himself. This was something that he could not turn back from. What was said was said and now-- Estinien was the one who must choose.  
Despite his struggles with self-esteem, Estinien was hardly one to back down from a challenge. Ever had he seen Aymeric as something radiant and beyond the reach of someone all but branded a heretic-- but here he was, dangling what may as well have been a full course high-house meal before a man starved.   
Again, he was the one to close the distance and lunged more like a beast than a man seeking his beloved. Aymeric winced at the sudden contact, but easily parted his lips for the assault of teeth against the fullness of his bottom lip. In a sense, he felt as though he had won, if only this small concession even as he reached up and began brazenly unfastening the belts and straps that held Estinien's plate armor in place.   
There was no resistance where he expected there to be, and he could see by Estinien's rather helpless expression that what will he had so strongly put in place had begun to melt away in the heat between them.   
A soft thud heralded the removal of Aymeric's own pauldrons-- and he heard the shocking sound of Estinien chuckling to himself. The sound of laughter on the man's lips was rare and in a moment such as this Aymeric wasn't sure what to think. He froze up a bit, and lifted his head just enough to search his face.   
"I just-- You see, I've looked upon the damnable clasps so many times I didn't have to think about how to unfasten them," Estinien observed.  
"Or perhaps you've imagined the task so often in your mind's eye that you need no guide," Aymeric offered in return, a wry smirk tugging at his lips.   
How long had it been since he had touched anyone like this? And longer still for Estinien, he was sure. Ever one to carry a torch in the dark he was, after all.   
"If you must disappear into the night, at least let me have this; let me have this once, this fleeting moment between breaths." Aymeric continued, and Estinien hastily dropped his armored gloves to the ground to let his bare hands find the Lord Commander's skin uninhibited for the first time.   
Estinien wanted to beg and plead; he knew that if he gave into this desire that he would be lost--a heretic indeed and more then that, still. He knew that in the end, there was no battle to be won and that Aymeric was right-- his heart belonged to him, and there was nothing he could ever do to put it back where it should have been beating within his chest.   
As soon as he was able to part the closures on the padded shirt beneath Aymeric's armor, Estinien's mouth found the curve of his throat and left a trail of those same vicious kisses down to his collarbone. He tasted of salt and the heat of battle, but Estinien hardly noted the smell of soot and sweat as anything but what he'd been steeped in his entire life. It was the salt and earth of home. Aymeric leaned into him as he struggled out of his greaves, until all that was left was the soft padded trousers that kept his armor from digging into him.   
The Dragoon raked his teeth against Aymeric's shoulder and the Lord Commander cursed aloud. "By the Fury, can't you be gentler?"   
Estinien lifted his head, grey-blue eyes staring into Aymeric's more azure ones before he answered matter-of-factly: "No." A beat and then, with an edge of sarcasm: "Does the Lord Commander wish for me to halt my ministrations?"   
"No." Came the response, husky and without hesitation.   
Aymeric nearly tumbled onto the cot where he made his bed, draped in furs and textiles from their homeland. The plush softness on his bare torso was a pleasant contrast to the way that Estinien was trying to tear him apart, as though he quite literally wanted blood. Rough-calloused hands wandered everywhere they could reach, nails digging in here and there. As though to even the playing field, Aymeric reached up and twisted his hands into the long white strands of Estinien's hair.   
He shuddered as the Dragoon let out a low snarl of a groan and settled over him. It was only a slight surprise for him to notic the growing peak of Estinien's erection beneath the brushed leather of his trousers. Aymeric could not help but feel a spike of self-satisfaction. There was something undeniably desirable in thinking of Estinien being so easily brought to heel. He tugged at his hair again and was given a gasp and another satisfying groan in return.   
"Tell me that you want me," The words tumbled from Aymeric's mouth without him realizing it.  
"I want you, gods-- I long for you more than I've ever longed for anything, Lord Aymeric." He lowered his gaze as he reached down to unfasten the laces of his leather trousers and shuck them off, though they clung to one leg.   
Estinien found himself vaguely embarrassed suddenly bared before Aymeric just so. It wasn't as if they hadn't changed in the same room in their youth. They had shared a barracks. Estinien remembered vividly a time he'd watched Aymeric stroking himself to orgasm while they were patrolling the outlands and he had thought Estinien was asleep. That sort of thing was just how it was when you were surrounded by other men with little privacy or time to one's self. The memory alone finished the work all of the hair pulling had started, and he looked away sharply when he realized that Aymeric was staring at him.   
His azure eyes had gone dark as he swept his gaze over Estinien's hard cock, his own starting to rise to the occasion. If Aymeric hadn't thought it impossible, he'd have sworn that Estinien was blushing, flushed from more than just the blood rush. The thought was alluring, and he bit his lip as he tried to focus-- to think about anything but the feeling of Estinien's skin against his.   
The Dragoon shuddered and rocked his hips forward, pressing their hips together in a search for friction as his hands came to brace themselves on either side of Aymeric's halo of dark curls. He balanced carefully on the edges of the wooden frame, his exceptionally muscular thighs doing most of the work. His years of using the weight of his body to create inertia and perform incredible leaps-- _literally_ \-- showed.   
If someone had asked Estinien if he had wanted this, he wasn't sure if he'd know how to answer. He rarely thought about more base desires or anything that could be considered desires of the flesh. Estinien had lived a life of self-denial from the moment he'd become the Azure Dragoon and onwards, and now was no different. Though he no longer had to keep constant guard against Nidhogg's grip on his mind, he had never learned to take that guard down.   
He muffled a little cry with the back of his hand as Aymeric's fingers slipped between them. He pressed his thumb gently against the tip of Estinien's cock before dragging his fist slowly along the length. They shuddered in tandem, and Estinien began to thrust slowly into the Lord Commander's grip as he leaned forward. His hair fell as a silvery curtain around him, and Aymeric did all he could not to close his eyes as the sensation washed over him. He watched for as long as he could stand, wanting to etch the visage of pleasure rather than the more familiar pained look Estinien wore into his memory.   
Aymeric was content to satisfy himself thusly, and balked slightly when Estinien broke away. "--What is it? What's the matter?" He breathed.  
"More," Estinien answered as his gaze searched the interior of the tent.   
"What ever could you need?"   
"Do you... do you _have anything_..." Estinien didn't state his intention clearly, but a few moments later it dawned on Aymeric's addled mind what Estinien was searching for.   
"Th-there, in that small trunk of my effects, a tin of--"  
"Ah of course, that balm for your oh-so-delicate skin." Aymeric had struggled with dry skin ever since the Coerthan climate had shifted dramatically with the calamity. Estinien had playfully teased him more than once for the sweet-smelling balm he worked into his hands, all the while loving the scent and committing it to memory.   
Moments later, he was letting the stuff melt on his fingers before he slicked it along the entirety of Aymeric's cock. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to compare sizes-- but all he cared about was seeking the pleasure he had so long denied himself. He worked his fist along the length with an expert twist of the wrist and Aymeric threw his head back into his pillow.  
"By the fury Estinien if you-- if you keep it up, I'm going to finish before you get the chance," His voice was little more than a whine.  
Estinien let out a dark chuckle. "I'm more worried about this cot than you. I saw how you'd go twice or more in a row when you thought everyone was asleep."   
"Estinien! Gods, that was years ago--" His embarrassment was palpable, enough to stave him off thoroughly: and to make him want to make Estinien pay for his treachery.   
Aymeric grunted, disentangling himself from Estinien's limbs to all but wrestle him to the ground which was blessedly covered by a plush carpet of furs. Momentarily winded, Estinien blinked up at Aymeric's sudden forwardness, and then let out a keening wail of a moan as the Lord Commander hitched his hand beneath his knee and buried himself inside of him all at once.   
He was sure someone would hear-- but with all of the commotion going on around the camp it was more than likely no one would have any clue where it was coming from.   
Aymeric was transfixed at the sight of Estinien, always so reserved, suddenly losing control beneath him. He drew back slowly, each movement bringing another sound from the Dragoon's parted lips. He kept his arm hooked under one of his knees, fingers digging into the muscle of his plush thigh. Before him was a beautiful canvas of scars new and old, some many made by the teeth and claws of dragons. They shone pearly and pink in the dim light, and Aymeric found himself bringing his mouth down to lick and nip at a series of them on the Dragoon's chest as he moved.  
Estinien's carefully placed wards on his own control began to come unravelled. He clutched at the fur rug beneath him and aimlessly rolled his hips up to meet his lover's thrusts. He could hardly bear to look at Aymeric's face, his brow furrowed in a mix of concentration as a bead of sweat rolled along his jaw. It rent his heart open like an open wound, like some awful void that he was terrified of. Hooking his legs more firmly around the Lord Commander's waist, Estinien leaned up so that he could press his face into the curve of his neck. He trembled and shook with the jolts of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him and tried to suppress the waves of emotion that came as well.  
It was then that Aymeric began to understand sayings that referenced things done in a fit of passion. That was without a doubt what this was. It was as if all propriety and etiquette had been forgotten; until he and Estinien were nothing but primal urges, rutting against each other like beasts. He both loved and loathed that he liked it-- that he wanted it more than anything. He felt a void tear open in himself as well, though it was occupied by the fact that he would have this-- and then Estinien would be gone from his side once again.   
Aymeric slipped his arm around Estinien's waist to shift their center of gravity, and the dragoon's long hair fell around their shoulders as he rocked forward onto his knees to straddle the Lord Commander's lap. Unspoken in their single-minded direction, their mouths came together in another mess of a kiss, teeth digging into lips and tongues. Estinien took lead of the pace as he rode Aymeric with a renewed hunger.  
"Oh, Estinien-- Estinien--'stinien--" Aymeric's muffled groans only made him more determined to make him come undone.   
To hear his own name chanted like a prayer on the Lord Commander's lips nearly moved him to tears, and then those strong, calloused hands were on him, stroking him roughly enough to make his thrusts erratic and the muscles in his thighs tremble. Finally, he had to admit defeat.   
"A-Aymeric I'm close,"   
"Then come for me, Estinien," He arched into Aymeric's hand at the command.   
He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth in an attempt not to cry out again, for fear of being overheard-- and then tumbled over the edge as Aymeric thrust up into him. Each press of his cock against his insides drew another hot splatter of come out of him, until he was trembling and over-sensitive, and sure he couldn't bear even a second more. Still, Aymeric held him in a vice grip against him, snarling as he worked himself to his own climax wrapped in Estinien's quivering heat.  
Together, they rode out the waves of overwhelming pleasure, certain that it wasn't possible to wrap themselves any tighter around each other. Aimlessly, Aymeric wove his fingers through the thick waves of Estinien's long hair and tried in vain to catch his breath. Despite the chemical high of the moment, he found himself on the edge of despair. To have Estinien like this and then to have to give him up again was so painful he couldn't bear the thought just yet.   
"I'm..I am a cruel man," He lamented softly.   
"Do not say such things. On the lips of another, I would consider such words cause to start a fight."  
"I don't want you to go," Aymeric admitted against Estinien's shoulder.   
All was silence for several long moments, save for their breathing and the ambient racket of the camp outside. A strong breeze shifted the tent's walls and carried the odd atmosphere before Estinien spoke, albeit haltingly.   
"I will not return to Aldenard with you," He said. "But until you leave Othard..."   
Aymeric didn't answer him directly, but kissed him on the mouth again, trying to memorize the warmth and softness of him.   
"Will you ever return to us?" Aymeric asked.   
"I have no answer to that question, nor do I know how to seek it. Perhaps I will never come to the conclusion." He said. "I must atone,"   
"Not a soul wants this for you, Estinien. You would be welcomed as a hero."   
"And that would in essence, be the heart and soul of the dillemma I face."   
"Estinien--" Estinien brought his fingers up to press them against Aymeric's lips. He shook his head.   
"When the answer comes to me, I shall make certain that you are the first to know."   
In the quiet, Aymeric just held him for all that he could. 

***  
Lucia hoped that her intervention had proven to be something that could change Estinien's mind. She was more than a little chagrined when she found him vansihed from their number once more as they boarded their airships to return to Ishgard. She had glimpsed though, the hushed and tender parting moment he had shared with Aymeric. Perhaps that was why her lord seemed to be in relatively good spirits, after all.   
He had been standing near the entrance of his office at the seat of the Knights Most Heavenly when the good news came. The Warrior of Light was awake. She watched him trot off toward the houses of healing, thoughts of what had transpired leaving her uncertain.   
How was it that Aymeric didn't notice? Every time they crossed the sea to aid their allies in the far East, she found Estinien haunting their steps. It was as if he had resigned himself to being a shadow rather than a man. She'd confronted him once before at Rhalgr's Reach upon their first excursion-- but he had slipped her grip.   
That was how, as she passed the Forgotten Knight on patrol that she was certain she sensed his presence in the glimpse of a shadow from the rooftop. It seemed that even he couldn't keep away-- not really. She returned to her post, knowing that her ploy to reunite the star-crossed lovers had been more successful than she had hoped.


End file.
